Obscure Lines of Morality
by Kawaii Chibi Megami
Summary: Usagi, a trouble-maker at her magical school, goes too far with a prank. In a last-ditch effort to straighten her out, the headmaster transfers her to Hogwarts, hoping the people there can help.
1. Prologue: No Remorse

Disclaimer: I own nothing; the mentioned characters belong to their respective creators and companies.  
  
Author's Notes: Er...I haven't posted in awhile, eh? **nervous laughter** I'm so sorry! I really, really am! I know I promised the seventh chapter of 'Agony' out ages ago, but school started and I just couldn't set aside enough time to write anything. Gomen nasai, minna-chan. In the meantime, whilst I battle severe writer's block and lack of free time, read this! ^^;;  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She needed something extraordinary. She needed something that was diabolical and yet strangely brilliant -- something that wouldn't cramp her style.  
  
She needed a plan.  
  
The tension in the room resulted in the faint beads of moisture glistening her brow, and the nervous way her eyes darted from the furious face.  
  
Well, she could make a run for it. She could sprint for the window and pray for a quick, painless death by means of impact.  
  
Or she could tell the truth.  
  
The Headmaster could almost read her mind, and knew the moment her eyes flickered finally and lingeringly to the window, that she had opted for the former possibility.  
  
"Miss Tsukino, such rash and wayward choices are unnecessary. So, if you please..."  
  
The golden goddess suspired, sinking suddenly and dispiritedly into the cushioned seat of the satin-red armchair. "Headmaster..." she began, but fell short. "It was a joke, a prank! Neither of us ever meant to hurt anyone!" The words toppled out in an irregular jumble. "That stupid git of a boy was just in the way when the Whomping Willow went crazy!" Her sapphire eyes were as close to pleading as the headmaster had seen them in years.  
  
Such a shame, he thought with a shaking of his head. He removed his spectacles, cleaning the lenses casually with a small tissue, before slipping them back on.  
  
Upon looking upward again, the chair was empty. Usagi Tsukino was at the window, one hand tentatively pressed to the frosty, cool-to-the-touch glass. He hadn't even heard her move.  
  
"Miss Tsukino..."  
  
"I know"--she swallowed, she was a proud person and it was difficult for her to admit to anything--"that that boy was hurt. I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Minako didn't mean to. Please leave her out of this."  
  
"Are you sorry, then, Miss Tsukino?" he queried. If she didn't apologize -- if she truly felt no remorse whatsoever -- then there wasn't any hope left for her. Any hope except...well, he did not desire it to come to that.  
  
She turned, then, and her eyes were the hard, flat eyes of a genuine loner. "No," she said, in an eerily pleasant tone. "I'm just sorry that nobody but myself laughed when it happened." She wasn't being sarcastic. She was telling the truth.  
  
The headmaster felt that frail optimism -- the optimism that perhaps she could find it within herself to care like she had used to -- shrivel.  
  
He hadn't thought she'd say it, he'd had faith she would come to her senses. A last-ditch effort to allow her to change her mind came in the words, "That's too bad, Miss Tsukino."  
  
"No it's not." The girl was blunt. Her smile was nearly friendly.  
  
The headmaster realized somethng, and wondered aghast why he hadn't previously. She didn't care -- she had absolutely no concept of what was right and what was wrong. Rules and laws and morals, they made no matter -- they were all just words to her.  
  
He was utterly morose. She would travel through life with a happy-go-lucky exterior, and a dead interior. All that talent, all that potential, all that brillaince, wasted.  
  
Unless...  
  
He kept thinking that this was probably going to be a fruitless stab in the dark. He kept thinking that she would turn violent under the circimstances -- even more violent than she was already. "Very well..." He sighed. Heavily. "You are hereby an exchange student, Miss Tsukino."  
  
The girl could not have been any more confused if some higher power had changed her into a man. "Headmaster, I don't under -- "  
  
"An exchange student at Hogwarts."  
  
She blinked, then blanched. "What?" she said softly, disbelievingly. "What did you say?"  
  
"Miss Tsukino, you must learn to live. You are a nuisance to the school, a troublemaker. You're distressed inside. You need...help." He worried that she'd really fling herself out the window, but she didn't. She stood there.  
  
"Headmaster," she whispered, like she was trying laboriously to understand, like she was totally and completely confused. "why? Why are you sending me away? I told you we hadn't meant to hurt anyone. I told you. Don't you believe me?"  
  
He nodded solemnly. "Yes, I believe you."  
  
"Then why?"  
  
He paused. He couldn't explain to her -- it was impossible. She'd have to figure it out for herself.  
  
"You are dismissed, Miss Tsukino."  
  
Her eyes were black with a rim of sapphire around them. She looked like she had just died. Deep down, she probably had.  
  
Then they smoldered -- almost dangerously -- becoming twin pools of molten indigo. "I hate you." And she meant it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The blonde ran to catch her dearest friend before her ill-fated departure. She was desperate.  
  
When Usagi had relayed to Minako the message of her expulsion and transfer, she had broken down. She had cried -- a thing that scarcely occurred.  
  
Thus, she ran, the guilt heavy on her shoulders, dragging her pace, and the deprivation of her best friend -- no, sister -- heavy on her heart.  
  
'Please don't leave yet!' The silent plea was intended for the stagecoach, which would take Usagi to a train station, which would take her away...  
  
...away to some other witchcarft school called Hogwarts.  
  
She, too, hated the headmaster. They had played a prank, it had gone awry, what was the huge deal? They had practiced their mischievous skills plenty of times in the past. And now, just a day ago, the headmaster had decided to ship Usagi off?  
  
It didn't make sense, Minako thought frustratedly, feet slapping turbulently against the earthen ground.  
  
Sure, she had felt bad about the boy being injured, but he would heal. Usagi hadn't felt anything, merely took the incident in cool, collected stride -- like she usually did. That was the only difference. Was that why the headmaster had done what he'd done?  
  
The stagecoach touched her vision, in the distance. Minako's heart fluttered.  
  
Upon reaching it, she stopped. Ragged pants passed her lips -- in and out, in and out. She regained her breath, just as a form slid from the backseat of the coach. "Usagi!"  
  
Said girl nodded in acknowledgement. "Minako."  
  
The emotion in Usagi's eyes scared her -- scared her like nothing else. A dread creeped into the pit of her stomach. Like a parasite finding a host to feed off of, it burrowed deep. And Minako had a strange intuition that it would never wholly leave.  
  
Mainly because there was no emotion in Usagi's eyes.  
  
They were insipid.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Usagi sat -- sat, and pondered.  
  
She felt like she was going crazy.  
  
She still couldn't comprehend, couldn't grasp what the headmaster had been getting at. The anger experienced at first...it was gone. Everything was gone. Minako, her other friends, her school...  
  
She and Minako had played a prank, it had gone awry, what had been the huge deal? They had practiced their mischievous skills plenty of times in the past. And now, just a day ago, the headmaster had decided to ship her off?  
  
It didn't make sense, Usagi thought.  
  
Sure, the boy had been injured, but he would heal. She hadn't felt anything, merely took the incident in cool, collected stride -- like she usually did. Even if she had wanted to feel some guilt -- some stitch of anything about the boy -- she couldn't have brought herself to. He hadn't died, so she'd dismissed it. Period.  
  
The train sped through the bright day.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
She was numb -- too numb to care, too numb to feel much of anything. Almost machanically, she moved to the front of the hall, and slipped on the hat. It was like a blur, and for a minute, she thought it had all been a dream -- a horrible, terrible nightmare.  
  
But it wasn't.  
  
It was as if she were outside herself, watching while some girl named Usagi Tsukino got sorted into a house at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry.  
  
The rim fell over her eyes, plunging her into oblivion, whilst a voice whispered near her ear. She would have been surprised, had she not been so numb...had she cared.  
  
'Sure,' she said in reply to the hat. 'whatever you think's best.'  
  
In reality, she hadn't cared about what the hat thought was best. She just...didn't care. It almost irked her.  
  
She couldn't feel anything.  
  
The hat then shouted something or other -- she hadn't had the incentive for listening -- and she walked, just as machanically, to a table. She acquired a seat.  
  
The procession or ceremony or whatever continued. She was content to sit, do nothing, feel nothing, hear nothing, and see nothing...  
  
Until she did feel something -- she felt someone's gaze on her.  
  
She turned dull eyes to a boy whom was currently seated beside her. He spoke volumes, and he wasn't even speaking. He just stared at her. Then he asked, "What are you here for?"  
  
And she said, absently noting he had beautiful eyes, "I don't know."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Vote on the pairings, if you'd like. I'm just winging this fic, really. **sweatdrops** But please, oh pretty please review! I need to get out of the depression my writer's block has whirled me into...and I bet you can kinda tell from the feeling of this first chapter. I wrote it based on emotions similar to that of the ones I'm feeling write now. :'( 


	2. Numb On The Inside

Disclaimer: I own nothing; the mentioned characters belong to their respective creators and companies.  
  
Author's Notes: **teary eyes** Ya' guys liked it? **sniffles** I'm so glad! ^^ And, someone asked me about the Whomping Willow. Well, yes, there was a Whomping Willow at Hogwarts. I'm not sure if there's only one in all existence or not, but I just figured that there were probably multiple Whomping Willows and, at the time, that seemed like the best way to injure the boy. ^^ Sorry 'bout the confusion.  
  
Oh! And special thanks to beanie, for she was nice enough to offer to listen to my problems! **hugglez** That was so sweet! **wipes away tear**  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
He almost snorted -- the boy -- and flashed her a strangely sinister grin. "You don't know?"  
  
As mentioned before, she was numb, she was tired. It was obvious he was trying to rile her -- for what reason, she didn't know. She figured that he was probably exactly what she had been at her old school: a disturber of the peace.  
  
A barely discernible shake of the head for confirmation and a second after found her re-thinking her answer. "I caused trouble." She said simply, monotonously. Again, the dull, dead, aloof outlook she possessed for the whole situation irked her.  
  
He paused. The grin had faded, but the malignant gleam polishing his eyes had not, and in said grin's place was a smirk. "You? A troublemaker?" He devoted her a long, sweeping overlook...  
  
...and laughed forthrightly.  
  
As much as she couldn't stir emotion within herself, she managed to raise a delicate eyebrow. That motion completed, she promptly and cooly punched him square across the jaw. Hard. The impact catapulted him backward, head- first.  
  
He was out like a candle under a pale of water. Somehow the rumpled form of him lying on the flag-stoned floor left her unaffected.  
  
Every single eye in the entirety of the Great Hall diverted, abruptly, complete and total attention to the new exchange student -- who had turned around and begun casually eating, as if nothing had happened in the faintest degree -- and an unconscious Draco Malfoy.  
  
She didn't care -- she felt nothing. No guilt, remorse, anger, pain, sadness, arrogance. Had she been her normal, let's-get-some-action-goin'- here self, she might have hit him a few more times, jumped on top of him and re-arranged his face a little, then waited for the teachers to gasp and get furious and drag her away by the ear.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Silence ensued. The clamor of utensils against plates died away into sullen oblivion.  
  
A loud, applauding whoop sounded from a distant table, breaking the deafening tension. Usagi didn't smile. She didn't blink, nor show any signs of emotion -- just turned vacant eyes sideways to view a red-headed boy laughing his jolly ass off.  
  
Then she smiled.  
  
It had always been a thing with her to make people laugh.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The halls were thronging, boisterous younger children scurrying, 'oohing' and 'ahhing' in fearful admiration amongst the mob whilst they followed the separate house Prefects in tow. At an intersection of hallways, the group split, dividing to create four smaller groups -- each travelled their different ways.  
  
She, too, followed, veering up the end of her 'group' as the laggard. A few Slytherins had jabbed snide remarks, and why not? If some newcomer had pranced into her school, knocked out one of her freinds, and retained absolutely no sign of caring, hell, she would have offered a much less pleasant courtesy than what they were currently.  
  
Others, though, glanced at her curiously -- from a fair distance, mind you -- with well-nigh as potent an awe as that with which the children gazed at their surroundings.  
  
She hadn't had the spirit to even acknowledge the living portraits, either. Until one actually beckoned her by name -- or at least, by a name that she'd never heard prior, but was frighteningly familar.  
  
"Serenity-sama!"  
  
A woman. Red costume, black hair, violet eyes. Eerie eyes...  
  
She knew those eyes, yet couldn't place them specifically. She summed up the mysterious lady in a glance, actually. It was also weird, for the numbness she was experiencing, the emptiness was dissipating slightly. Slightly, gradually, as she observed the woman.  
  
The lady was a tad frustrated now. She realized, with a start, that the woman had been calling her the familar name several times. Usagi grinned -- she didn't know why, but she just grinned, saying the very first thing that popped into her head.  
  
"Cool your jets, Pyro."  
  
She'd addressed her by 'pyro' because she reminded her of an angry fire Goddess. Or an angry fire warrior. Whatever it was, it latched onto a cord in her heart, tugging mercilessly. She'd seen this person before...they had been friends. She could FEEL it. Maybe a past-life friend?  
  
It drew forth an oddly potent wave of happiness, and at the same instant, the deepest sadness Usagi could ever recall feeling.  
  
Jarring herself from her bubbling whirl of jumbled ideas, Usagi saw the girl's eyes spark with a furious indignancy. "Odango atama!" she fairly screached. "You had better never call me tha -- "  
  
She was at a loss for reason, as if someone else were controlling her, driving her to speak and do things she would not have done otherwise. She blinked. "What?" A devious grin stole her pink lips. "Pyro?"  
  
Pyro regulated her composure, the red tinge to her face darkening by the second. Pyro gritted her teeth, saying, "Serenity-sama, it's me. I see you remember, ne?"  
  
Nonchalantly, Usagi paused. Truthfully, she didn't know this person -- she was just allowing her imagination to run rampant with her. "No," her amethyst eyes glittered, then dimmed. "I don't know you."  
  
Whatever protests Pyro would have made, Usagi knew, died in her throat as she povoted on her heel, and strode noiselessly down the hall to once more join her fellow Slytherins.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
They were steadily decending, she realized absent-mindedly, the stone steps they walked only going downward, not upward. Dozens upon dozen of heels clicked against solid floor, the clutter and din of people chatting creating an almost nauseating hubbub that echoed, intensified, off of the equally solid walls.  
  
All in all, the atmosphere was gloomy. No windows, apparently under ground, lots of suits of armor, the metal cool and chilly to the touch.  
  
She didn't mind.  
  
It took her a minute or two to note the sound softening to an indistinguished ripple of murmers, and the slowing pace. Eventually, they stopped all together. Being at the back, she could not -- nor did she want to -- view much of anything over the heads.  
  
She was content to stand quietly. She heard a grating sound -- that of stone grinding against stone -- and then the group was moving once more.  
  
They passed through an ominously dark opening in a wall, which she was fairly sure had not been there previously, and a dim blue light focused her short attention. Fire...  
  
The blue light...was blue fire. Quite interesting. Well, not really.  
  
Satin-red armchairs scattered the dingy common room, their arms and cushions the pictures of scarlet elegance. One, simple, satin-red couch sat dejectedly off to the side, closest to the blazing fire.  
  
She would have gone up to find her room along with the girls, but didn't fancy a bed at the moment, so, instead, opted for the couch. It seemed to almost curl around her, no longer dejected, and thankful for the attention. She leisurely kicked off her shoes, not considering the fact that someone could have tripped on them, and pulled her legs to her chest.  
  
By now, the majority of Slytherin was 'upstairs.'  
  
She wanted to stay awake, honest. Yet the ill-fated Sand Man had already swept her eyelids. They grew heavy, and drooped. She jerked them apart, and they drooped; she jerked them apart again.  
  
Then, her eyes snapped open, the same grating stone reaching her ears. Light from the door-way created a yellow square on the floor. The grating. Then darkness, save the slight blue hue casting shadows. Her eyes attempted to adjust, but, alas, too late were they.  
  
He had spotted her long before she him. His eyes were scathing pools of coal-black rage, smoldering -- a silent and deadly warning. Usagi had an urgent intuition forming in the pit of her stomach, and she understood that if he could have, he would have killed her. Unconcerned, she batted it away.  
  
"Why, hello." she made small-talk. "See your nose is fixed." And, indeed, it was perfect. Where she had been sure there would forever more remain a lump to marr that perfect bridge, there was nothing.  
  
"Yes," he sneered in blatant ferocity. "magically healed."  
  
He strode over to her, steps fluid. One could almost deem the boy in front of her graceful, with golden hair slicked back, and a slim figure. She was lost in her silly, rampant imagination again, for he said something, and it was seconds until she came to recognition, finally repeating the words in her head and comprehending.  
  
"Wha -- ?" she whispered, for the most part, windless.  
  
He raised a scathing eyebrow. "Daydreaming?" A derisive snort. "Listen, witch," his arms came to straddle her upper body, one of his hands resting against the arm of the couch, and the other against the cushion she was sitting on, trapping her. From such a close range, Usagi could see his eyes were even more beautiful, his breath practically tickling her cheek. It was intended to scare her.  
  
She nearly felt sorry for him, because she couldn't muster any fear whatsoever.  
  
She mirrored said scathing eyebrow, minus the 'scathing' part. It was humorous to watch him, really. "What? You going to hex me?" she leaned closer, challenging him. If either moved any, their lips would touch, merely a hairsbreadth separating flesh from flesh. "Did you not just say that 'if I could muffle your screams, I'd slaughter you'?"  
  
Grey ice -- melted obsidian with loathing -- and pools of sapphire clashed.  
  
The temperature in the room rose about ten degrees, and Usagi had the annoying itch to loosen her collar; the tension climaxed. If any onlookers had been standing around, their minds would have surely sizzled under the flaming electricity emitted.  
  
"No," he said finally, flatly. The distance disappeared, and whether it was by accident, or purpose, Usagi would never know. It was the lightest brush, so slight, she wondered if it had even occurred.  
  
Then it was over. She had noticed that the boy was pale, but in the blue lighting, he appeared ghostly white.  
  
He continued, as if there had never been a break in the sentence. "I'm going to kill you, next chance I get."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the first chappie! AND, if you did so then, please do so now. I need criticism! ^_^;;; I know this chapter probably dissapointed a lot of you -- I'm so terribly apologetic if Usagi came off overly weird or...cruel, too. Or if the romance (which, in my opinion, is not even romance yet) is being rushed.  
  
And, also, someone mentioned the fact that they 'didn't know whether or not they liked Usagi's character yet, and I should make something traumatic have happened to her to make her the way she is.' Well, yes, I'd already planned that she'd have something to make her the way she is. I don't believe in changing the personalities of the characters without good reason. Actually, in the very first scene of the first chapter, there's a sentence that implies Usagi once cared more. So, have no fear, dear reader(s)! ^^;; I just wanted to make sure that you understood my plan, and that, yes, I have a reason behind the rebellious attitude. 


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